Five Hugs for Ichigo
by Yoshimi
Summary: Gen, mild Ichigo x Rukia. Five hugs from five different points in Ichigo's life.


His back is still stiff from his mother's weight, the shield her body provided. It might help to stretch, make his bones crackle beneath the skin, but that would require moving, and he's just not ready for that yet. He feels cold, as cold as he did before the bath and change of clothes his father insisted upon. He could swear it's raining in his bedroom.

The sinking of the mattress is the first indication his dad is there. For such a loudmouth, he can be silent as the grave when he wishes. Strong arms circle Ichigo's waist, lift him despite the silent protest he wages with his board-stiffened joints (he didn't protect her, he doesn't deserve comfort) and settle him across thick calves, against a solid chest. The arms promise to never let go so, and despite his intentions, he relaxes, sinks into the rhythm of his father's steady breathing.

* * *

When he gets to the primary school to walk them home, they're both in tears. He searches for the appropriate ass to kick (probably a big one, if he managed to make Karin cry) but doesn't see anyone. Their sob-laden explanations don't tell him much of anything and he's getting frustrated, when Yuzu wraps her arms around his right leg, seating herself on his foot, and Karin follows suit with his left.

"Aren't you guys a little old for this?" he asks, but all he gets in response are more squeaks and halted breathing.

"So you want us to walk home like this?"

Their heads nod in unison, so he lifts one twin-heavy foot and lets it drop to the concrete a few inches ahead of where it was. Being a big brother requires great strength.

* * *

Another day, another beating, that seems to be their motto these days. Pretty soon everyone should figure out that Chad and Ichigo are an unbeatable pair, but it hasn't sunk in yet. Today Ichigo isn't quite prepared for the pipe the kid pulls on him, and he pays for it.

Trusting Chad can take care of these losers, he collapses backwards. He stares at the clouds from his grassy bed and concentrates on body parts one by one. Definitely a few bruised rids, and something isn't right with his left thighbone. His dad will have to see what's wrong exactly. If only he were more gentle with Ichigo when he's injured, it wouldn't be so bad. But the training never stops with Isshin, and he tries to prepare himself for the assault that will await him at home.

The sun is eclipsed behind a brick wall in a Hawaiian shirt. "Ready to go home, Ichigo?"

"Ugh, do I have to?"

Chad doesn't answer, but bends over to help his friend up. Ichigo determines where his weight is placed, so they can get him home without hurting him more.

He intakes breath sharply with the first tentative step on his injured leg, and he shifts even more of his weight to Chad's frame. The arm wrapped around his back tightens on him, and he feels a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder.

Suspicious, he asks, "Did you just _hug_ me?"

Chad's gaze is impenetrable as always, but he could swear there's a twinkle hidden behind it.

* * *

When she pulls away, Orihime looks as surprised as he is that her arms were just around him. He smiles, trying to erase the lines of fear that are forming around her eyes, the dust of pink settling below them. This is hampered only by the memory of her chest against his – that still has him flustered.

"Oh, um, Kurosaki-kun, I'm just so glad that you're okay. But you don't look okay really, you're bleeding, sit down and I'll try to fix you."

He tries to protest that he's fine, she shouldn't waste her strength on him, but she's already pushed him down onto a chair (shoving on his sore shoulder, no less; her bedside manner could use some work) and she's calling forth her shield.

"Inoue, you shouldn't worry. You know I always make it back all right."

Her smile is full of so much confidence in him that it almost outweighs the tear still lingering in the corner of her eye.

* * *

Sometimes he longs for the stoic shinigami who first appeared in his bedroom. The cool samurai wannabe she had seemed to be before she got all mad and freaked out on him. Granted, he only saw that girl for a few seconds, but she made an impression. His bedroom was so much quieter before Rukia opened her mouth.

He doesn't even know what she's going on about now. Normally, he enjoys arguing with her, egging her on, getting her riled up, but today he is tired. This whole "high school student by day, savior of the afterlife by night" gig is getting pretty old.

Ichigo scoots to the edge of his bed, keeping his body relaxed so she won't notice he's up to something. He reaches down to scratch his ankle lazily, keeping it at the ready as he waits for her pacing trajectory to swing within his grasp.

He snaps as quickly as a Venus flytrap, one bicep covering her mouth, the other squeezing her middle.

She's not happy – she's trying to tell him so, but only the sleeve of his school uniform hears her. The teeth sinking into his arm don't bother him too much (he was prepared for those) but he does wish she would stop kicking and squirming. She keeps jiggling the mattress and, as her body is positioned between his thighs, this might become an awkward situation pretty soon.

For now, he enjoys the silence, and the knowledge that Rukia isn't struggling as much as she could be.


End file.
